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Searing ‘Valley of the Bees’ from Czech New Wave Master Frantisek Vlacil

screen cap from Czech New Wave masterpiece ‘Valley of the Bees’ by Frantisek Vlacil

by Sam Juliano

In 1998, Czechoslovakian film critics were polled on what they considered to be the greatest film ever made in their country, and the response at the time was somewhat surprising. Forgoing the best films by Milos Forman and Jiri Menzel, the scribes annointed a relatively obscure medieval epic by Franticek Vlacil, Marketa Lazarova, a filmaboutthedesperatestruggleforsurvivalamongstthebloodysavageryofthe13thcentury. In this dark and spectacular canvas, Vlacil, who originally studied art history and aesthetics, revealed an intense interest in the power of the poetic image that has often been compared with Tarkovsky. His taste for composition–horses against landscape, castles against the sea–often attained a Wellsian grandeur. The titles that break the film up give it the epic quality of the picturesque novel it was based on, and the violence of the film’s rapid forward tracking movements, flashbacks and flashforwards disturb both the narrative and visual convention.

Shortly after the film was shot in 1967, the director took advantage of some of the existing sets and decided to tell another story set in the same time, and with some of the same themes. The theme of Christianity vs. paganism and the distorting effects of organised religion is again the subject of Udoli vcel (Valley of the Bees) where the Czech hero is raised as a member of the Order of St. Mary of Jerusalem (the Teutonic Knights). Again, there’s a keen sense of time and place, accentuated by a sustained underpinning of austerity transcribed on a lush, classical widescreen black and white canvas, deftly negotiated by master lensman Franticek Uldrich, whose compositional eye was painterly. Still, the films are markedly different in their narrative arc, as the earlier film was an unbridled study of paganism, while Valley of the Bees is a rigid examination of the code of conduct that informs the ‘Order of St. Mary of Jerusalem,’ which first and foremost is commited to spiritual purification, which of course disenfranchises familial bonds, physical contact and materialism. The character ‘Armin von Heiden’ is cultish in his glorification of these sacrifices, while ‘Ondrej of Vikov’ (whom we first see as a young boy) is a rebel who carefully orchestrates his opposition, as an overt position would result in a violent public death. Armin develops a strong bond with Ondrej and they soon undergo physical endurance in freezing water in a scene that reveals a strong homoerotic current. When Armin refers to Ondrej as ‘my brother’ we are uncertain whether it’s a religious declaration or something more provocative. But yet another forbidden relationship develops after Ondrej leaves the order, when his stepmother Lenora make overtures, which are returned in kind.

If it’s abundantly clear that Valley of the Bees is almost western-like in it’s simple presentation of ‘one man against another’, it’s just as obvious that Vlacil masks his characters and motivations with a considerable degree of ambiguity. Hence, the central relationship is a vacillating one, where both theological and humanistic leanings, showcased by both characters are not to the point where neither can’t be ‘swayed’ by the other. This sense of overlapping and uncertainty is typical of Vlacil’s work, and in fact laudatory, as it instigates multiple interpretations. There are a number of questions as to what directions the characters will take, and Vlacil subverts the conventional conclusions one might draw from the initial appearance of Armin as the blonde-haired young man with a clear purpose, while the dark-haired Ondrej owns motives that are unclear.

The harsh and unforgiving landscape that permeated Marketa Lazarova is sustained in Valley of the Bees, which like it’s celebrated predecessor, is a meticulously textured and sonorous work, aimed at making the viewer almost taste and smell the surroundings. There are some arresting set pieces and individual shots, like a body being thrown to dogs from an overhead angle, the naked hand-clutch in the afformentioned moment of bonding, and blood oozing out from a body into a roadside puddle, and there is an eerie harshness to the proceedings, which is underlined by another discordant score by Zdenek Liska (who wrote the music for Marketa Lazarova as well). Some solo work is accompanied by a full choir, and the effect is mesmerizing. Valley of the Bees is an uncompromising vision, and it’s as bleak as any film in Vlacil’s canon, yet it’s a ravishing and often beautiful tapestry that beckons to a world where thoughts and ideals yields to the harshness of an oppressive time that allows no escape. There are no happy endings in this world.

The very fine U.K. company, Second Run, has released a superb DVD that is a full notch over the work they did on Marketa Lazarova both in resolution and brightness. This is a stunning 2:35 to 1 remastered transfer that is light years ahead of the lamentable full-screen Facets (Region 1) release we’ve had to endure the past several years. The picture control is often so pristine that one can briefly notice some shimmering. But Second Run encoded the DVD to “all-region” meaning the DVD can be played on all machines, including those here in the USA. This is the kind of DVD print you just can’t take your eyes off, and the subject here is most worthy. The Valley of the Bees is one of two masterpieces by Franticek Vlacil, released in the same year, and as such it’s a must-own, especially in this terrific edition.

Thanks so much JAFB! I’ve been obsessed with this film since I first saw it on the inferior Facets Region 1 DVD, as I felt it came within a hair of MARKETA LAZAROVA. But the new Second Run, with it’s pristine widescreen canvas is really cause for celebration. Please reach me at TheFountain26@aol.com, and I’ll make sure you see this film soon.

I too Sam, would be most interested in this one. I remember how much you revere Marketa Lazarova, but I didn’t realize that the same director had released another film with such striking similarities in the same year. It’s great that the DVD companies got it “right” on the second try. I’m thinking here of Bergman’s The Virgin Spring. Am I far off? Please don’t forget to include me on your “mailing list.”

You’ve managed to keep this one a big secret. But if this film is on the same level as the director’s other medieval epic, it’s sure to be dazzling. It’s heartening that the presentation brings back the intentions of the director. I just went into the search engine and found it has many who rate it highly. Unexpected, but a terrific review or re-visitation essay.

I’ve heard Schmulee mention this film several times over the past several years. His utterances had stood firm in his belief that the two films rate nasterpiece status. The praise lauded here, with the usual literary bravado is infectious. My deat friend has penned an informative, detailed review that has sparked my interest for seeing this film. No worries though, all I gotta do is bring up Chech film-making after pasta and he’ll run to pop this baby in the machine. Trick two: Giving Gillian (Sams fourth child) a dollar in quarters, and then puppy eyes, to get her to run snacks up and down the stairs to me while I do an imitation of King Faruk on the coutch (“Gillian, there’s not enough chocolate sauce on my sundae! Don’t forget the Cheese Doodles either! Now, hurry up!!”). Sam’s house is better than a real theatre. It comes with personal waiters! LOLOL!!!!!

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Wonders in the Dark is a blog dedicated to the arts, especially film, theatre and music. An open forum is highly encouraged, as the site proctors are usually ready and able to engage with ongoing conversation.